Beginnings
by Keeper of Tomes
Summary: 1 of the 100 Challenge. Every evil has a birth, and every shadow is cast by something. The beginnings of an empire, the childhood of a queen, the rise of a warrior.
1. New Arrival

Her first memories were of dark rooms and empty hallways, cold arms and even colder hearts. She remembered, quite vividly for a child, the smell of her nursery, the wrinkles on her Nanny's face, the shafts of red light that spread across her bedroom floor. And of course, she remembered her father's laugh, the cruel and blackened hiss of a Cyclonian ruler.

But unlike most children, she could not conceive what her mother looked like. Could not remember ever being held or fondled by a person of relation. Could not remember what a young woman's voice was like. Never held anyone's hand other than her Nanny's, and that was only under extreme stress or pressure.

What had taken years to do to most had happened to her in a matter of months. As an infant, she was normal. Cried, ate, slept. But as soon as she hit the age of three, the darkness came, something she'd never escape. Growing up underneath the kingdom of red skies was bad enough. Growing up as a princess was even worse. Talons understood that if they wanted to keep their lives, never mind their jobs, they were to respect and obey the little toddler, who strode through the palace as if she owned it already. She learned fast, faster than any child most of her teachers had ever come across. And by the time she was four, she was a quick witted, sly, disobedient little child who brought down her wrath on any Talon, grunt, or teacher who happened to be in her way.

Only her Nanny was safe. The old woman had raised her from an infant; there was nothing she didn't know about the little girl.

How she loved to read, to explore, to tinker with crystals and metal parts.

Life was a steady stream of men, maps, and talk of war. The palace was a grand and mysterious place, important and big. Her father spent hours locked in his war room, talking to his generals. Every now and again, the alarms would ring, skimmers would take off, Talons would dash to their posts, but SHE would stay in her room, safe from the bloody gore of battle.

It was on one such day that you could say her life was changed. For the better or worse, she'd never truly know.

The skies were filled with blue and red orbs of energy. Disobeying her Nanny's orders, she crawled up to the window and peered outside with her dark, violet eyes.

"Those are Striker Crystals they're using. Very low grade," she pronounced.

"Lark, get away from the window."

"I will NOT. I want to see the crystals. And I think we're winning! Oh, look, they've brought out the Firebolts; I love watching those go off."

Nanny sighed. The little girl was impossible. She walked over to the window as well and decided on watching the fireworks. Watched the red skimmers. Wrung her hands with worry. One lucky shot could send them both to kingdom come.

Red lightning dashed from cloud to terra as the Firebolts were blasted from the Cyclonian battlements. Suddenly, there was a perfect explosion of blue. One of the smaller carriers in the front ranks plummeted to the Wastelands, and for a few moments, the battlefield was silent. And then, like some sort of invisible hand was sweeping across the sky, the blue army began to pull back, back from the red sky and the dark palace walls.

"I knew it." She smiled out the window. "I knew they'd go away."

Nanny grinned, rather meekly, before walking over to the door. Someone was knocking. There were a few hushed whispers Lark didn't bother making out; if it was important, she'd have been notified. Nothing happened in the palace without her knowing. She knew which Talon had fallen in love with the scullery maid, knew which Talons were drunks, knew where they smuggled in illegal crystals. She was small, her hearing was sharp, and her mind even sharper.

For a four year old, she was good at the business of spying.

Her Nanny came back.

"Keep looking out the window, Princess. I think we're going to see a small show."

A blue skimmer, escorted by several red ones, was swooping towards the landing strip directly below her window. The ROYAL landing strip. She raised an eyebrow as a lanky boy, no more than eighteen, landed his ride and got down. He wore a hawk on his uniform.

"Is he a prisoner?" She glanced at her Nanny. "Who is that?"

"He's one of the Storm Hawks. WAS, anyhow. Betrayed them and is joining Cyclonia."

Lark grimaced at her Nanny's grammer before continuing. "He defeated the Storm Hawks?" Her father was always talking about them and how much trouble they caused. "What's his name?"

"I dunno his REAL name, but your father has dubbed him the Dark Ace."

"He doesn't look very dark to me," Lark mumbled. She watched him walk across the runway, black hair ruffled by a passing breeze. He looked up in her direction. She glared at him, noticed his searing red eyes, his almost dangerous countenance. Noticed the sword he clutched in his hand. Noticed the smears of red on the blade. He seemed to squint. She drew away from the window; no traitor-turned-Talon grunt was going to look upon HER.

He was led away by the others, and soon, had disappeared into the palace. He was directly below her, now. The thought made her shudder. She never liked strangers, you never knew what they'd bring.

Another knock on the door. Nanny answered it again.

More hushed whispers.

Lark leaned against the windowsill and rolled her eyes. Finally, the man left, and her Nanny waddled over.

"Get dressed, Princess. Your father requests your presence in the throne room."

After a flurry of fabric and shoes, she was bustled out the door, her Nanny staying behind, forbidden to leave this level of the palace. Lark was led away by the two Talons outside, who constantly shot her worried looks, as if she could set them on fire with a glance.

The throne room was at the top of the palace. They took the stairs, at her request. She enjoyed watching her escorts huff and puff while she herself glided like a shadow up the dark steps. By the time they arrived, the two Talons were beet faced and winded. She was still pale, still small, and still stoic.

Doors clicked open for her.

She walked down the hallway, Talons bowing low, her escorts staggering on like wounded soldiers. Finally, they reached the inner chamber.

It was usually a dark and silent place, void of anyone other than her father. But today, it was filled with men, Talons of every rank, and someone new. The boy she had seen. The traitor turned Talon.

Her father, a tall and distant man, stood in the shadows towards the back of his throne room. Searing eyes. Black hair. Everyone felt him smile.

"My daughter. Lark, meet our latest edition to the great army of Cyclonia. Dark Ace?"

The boy turned around and faced the tiny shape that had just arrived and bowed. She could see the skepticism in his eyes, but did not address it. Returned his bow with a curt nod.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, I'm sure."

Her father gave her a steely stare, before nodding at the door. "Dismissed."

She hated it when he did that. Treating her like one of his precious Talons. Turned her back on the new arrival. Glanced at him. Saw him smile, saw his face light up at her, and it wasn't one of pity, either. She almost froze in her steps.

Almost...

Later, back in her room, the sun had hit high noon, and she was hot. The curtains were wide open. She looked around for Nanny, who was conveniently sprawled on the couch, fast asleep. Lark strode over and tapped her shoulder. She didn't wake. Lark moved on from tap to total shove.

"Schung..." Nanny rolled over and snorted.

Great. Lark was too short to reach the curtain rope. She decided to leave the room and walk around a bit. No Talons were present in the hallway; she had free reign to wander as she pleased. The corridor was dark, but she knew it well, could navigate it with her eyes closed. She glided up and down the stairs, shooting glares at any Talon who looked her way.

Paused. One door was open. Looked around; she was in the captain's quarters. Peered inside. Thought she heard sighs. Entered.

"Hello?"

Oh. HIM.

The boy. Black hair combed back, kept in place by a new, shimmering piece of headgear. Had changed into red and green, a metal plate strapped onto his chest that bore the crest of Cyclonia. He had set down the red streaked sword, placed it on the floor. Clutched in one hand was a tangle of cloth, colored blue and silver. His old uniform.

"What are you doing here?" He squatted so that they could see eye to eye. "Wandering around all alone."

"It's MY home."

"Of course. I forgot." He smiled again. "How old are you?"

"Four years, two months, and three days," she said. "And YOU?"

"I'm eighteen," he muttered.

"So that makes you about fourteen years older."

"That's quick math for a four year old," he said with a smirk. "Impressive."

"My tutors teach me everything I need to know." She pointed at his sword. "Is that a Striker Crystal?"

He picked up the blade and unclasped the crystal. "Here. Medium grade."

She flipped it around in her pale hands and held it up to the light. Examined every nick in the blue stone. Squinted. "Nice," she whispered. "Very nice. It must fire well."

"I wouldn't know. I've only used it once." He glances at the red stains on his blade. "Only once."

His eyes turn downwards. She hands the crystal back and graces him with one of her rare smiles. Even says thank you. He says there's no problem, it was his pleasure. She turns and leaves, same as before. Shoots one final glance back. He stops her with another smile. Holds out the blue stone.

"Want it? I don't need it anymore."

She takes it, pockets it, and gives him a nod. Departs.

Holds in her hands the crystal that took down the Storm Hawks. Holds in her heart the possibility of...a friend.

OOO

A/N: Should I continue? Is it horrible? Is it good? Let me know if it should stay a one-shot.


	2. You're Fired

She hasn't been to this part of the palace before; here, the lights are brighter and the people slightly more open. She's taking a detour to her lessons, seeing as she's late. Normally, she is a prompt human being, always there on time. But she had a few glitches in her day. Breakfast itself was not on time; something about a few "minor explosions" in the kitchen. Pah. As if she'd believe THAT. And then her Nanny was sick, down with the flu, which made getting ready a horrible hassle.

Made her way down the hall, hampered by a massive amount of Talons, all heading to something. Caught a glimpse of Ace, which was what SHE still called him, down the hallway. He saw her and grinned. She pretended not to notice.

A few laundry girls stepped aside and held their baskets of clean linen above their heads for the little princess to pass. She's only a toddler, only a five year old, only a girl, really. But she commands respect.

She doesn't like this place. It smells of sweat and grit. She walks quickly, clutches her books to her chest, and tries not to look anyone in the eyes. Finally leaves the light behind and is back in the calm and tranquility of the darkness. Hopes she doesn't stink like the laundry girls.

Opens the classroom door. Her crystal tutor bows and makes no remarks about her timing. She says nothing. Just sits down and flips her textbook open. He pouts for a few moments before pulling over the blackboard and commences to write down chemical compounds of multiple crystals.

She leans back in her chair and pulls in the information.

He begins to talk. "Note the composition of Crystal A is almost identical to the composition of Crystal C, meaning they have similar properties..."

She raises her eyebrows, not her hand. Thinks hand raising is silly, considering there's no one else in the room. He nods at her.

"Can we skip to the lab? I've already read the textbook." She flops her book around before tossing it to the floor. "Elementary material, really. You should talk to the writer. Tell him to expect more from my generation."

He walks over, picks up the book, and shows her the cover. "Princess, I AM the author," he says, rather tartly.

She laughs, a high pitched hiss, and stands. She's not tall, barely reaches his chest, has to crane her neck back to see his face. But her movement is imposing all the same. He sets the book down.

"You need to work on your writing skills. Don't give unnecessary lectures. Too many illustrations, not enough organized sections, the different chapters too hard to differentiate." She strokes the spine of the book. "What are you, some kind of repressed artist who writes textbooks for a living?"

"I...I..." He's at a loss for words.

"Oh, and stop copying from other books; I found at least five plagiarized passages. Probably more, but it was late and I was tired." She smirked. "Now, about that lab..."

"I do NOT plagiarize!" he barked.

"Do, too. And did you just contradict me?" She jumps up on the chair with one fluid movement. She's taller than him, now. Can stare down at him with violet eyes. "Because if you did, then you're fired."

"I didn't...That is to say..." He sighs. "I'm fired."

She jumps back down and presses the textbook into his hands. "Thought so. Have a nice day."

Glides out of the room, leaves him with his mouth open like an extremely ugly fish. She smirks, finds her way to the captain's quarters and sees Ace, leaning against the wall.

"You look happy, today." Falls in next to her, making his strides as small has hers.

"Just fired my crystal tutor, is all. You know, Mr. Copy-pants?" She never bothers learning her teacher's names, just gives them nicknames of her own.

He laughs. "What's that, the third this month?"

"Fourth. Unless you count that little rat that came in and lasted about an hour...I should have saved my breath." She pauses in her walking and looks at him. "That was a good day."

"You are a funny five year old," he says.

"I am NOT," she says, annoyed. "I'm special. Everyone says so." Then she grins. "Although, deep down, they all think I'm barking MAD."

"You? Mad? Never. Now, the man up there is a different story." Ace points at the ceiling with a grimace.

"Oh, you mean father." She waves her hand, as if swatting away the truth. "He's crazy, I admit it. Maybe I have some of his genes, you never know. Hopefully, madness is a recessive allele." Then she pokes him in the chest. "Shouldn't you be training?"

He shrugs. "So? I'm already better than everyone else. Sooner or later, someone's going to have to promote me."

"You know, one day, when I become queen, you can be my right hand man," she says, rather offhandedly. She continues down the hall. He looks a little taken aback.

"Er...O.k." He walks after her, shaken. "Sounds...fun."

"Ha. Can't think of me as a ruler?" She runs her hand along the metal wall, leaves streaks on the surface. "Don't worry, you will. And if you don't want to be the right hand man, you can always be the dumb muscle."

"Excuse...excuse me?" He raises an eyebrow. "Dumb...muscle?"

"If this were a book, you'd be talking a series of dot dot dots." She pauses and glares at him. "You heard me, no need to repeat everything I say. You sound like a broken record machine, playing back my voice several pitches lower."

He sulks and follows her like a tail that's been dragged through the mud. "I am not dumb. Muscle, maybe. Not dumb."

"Whatever you say, Ace. Whatever you say."

"Princess, my name is no longer Ace."

"Well, my name's not 'princess', but you insist on calling me that." She frowns. "I told you to call me Lark. My name is Lark."

He squats down so that she no longer has to arch her neck in that painful looking manner. "Alright. If you call me Dark Ace, I'll call you Lark. At least, until someone hits me for doing so. Is that a deal?" He holds out his gloved hand. She eyes it warily, thinks about the bargain. Reaches out and grips it with her own pale fingers.

"Deal." She eyes him. "Dark Ace. Doesn't suit you, but alright. And no one will hit you for calling me Lark. I wouldn't let them. I'd protect you."

He's touched by her words. She doesn't seem to notice the genuine smile that has found its way onto his pale face. HE doesn't think she does. But she is a perceptive child, and his grin does not go unseen. But one thing she doesn't notice is the urge he has to stand over her, to keep her close. She's got a tough exterior, but once you get past it, inside, she's still a child. Still has a soft heart. He knows she's fragile. If dropped from high enough, her shell would break, and once it's gone, she's defenseless. Unless, of course, he's there for her. Thinks of her as a sister.

He walks her back to her room. Fishes around in his pocket and hands her a new crystal that glows like the sun.

"Nicked it for you. Solaris Stone."

"I don't have one of those!" She takes it and holds it up in triumph. "It's so pretty!"

There. A little piece of her true nature. A little spark of childhood.

"Glad you enjoy it, prince...le...Lark." He gives her a little pat. "I shall see you around then."

"Of course you shall, Dark Ace." Back to her usual self. Walls back up. Heart hidden away. But he knows that she'll smile again. Feels unique because she's graced him with a little bit of her laughter. "Good day."

"Good day, Lark."

Bows. Leaves. Disappears down the hallway.

She puts the crystal away, but not before making a new label for it. And on the bottom of the white strip of paper, she places his initials, so that she won't forget who gave it to her.

OOO

A/N: For clarification, this isn't a pairing, and notice that romance isn't the genre. It's more of a friendship, brother/sister thing. That's all. As before, if it's good, then good. If you think it's pushing some boundaries and should be dimmed down a bit, let me know. And if you want me to keep it going, drop a note. Or just review for the sake of reviewing; I love all feedback.


	3. Birthday Banter

"Dark Ace?"

"Hmm."

"What time is it?"

"About four; why, do you have lessons?"

"As a matter of fact, I do." She jumped down from the stool and removed her smock. "You can move, now."

He stands and flexes his muscles. For a man of action, he can be very still when he wants to be. He smiles at the little girl and watches her clean her brushes and palette.

"Can I see the painting?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Your birthday's not until tomorrow. You can see it then."

Apparently, Lark had decided to draw a portrait of Dark Ace as a present for his twentieth birthday. He wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea, but decided to oblige her all the same. For him, birthdays just meant you were getting older, and older wasn't good. Not when you were a soldier. Joints don't get better with use.

But he's still in his prime, relatively, and twenty isn't the end of the world. Technically. He considers the fact that if he can survive two decades living like he lived, he can survive two more. Or three, or even four.

He playfully tries to steal a glance at the picture when her back's turned.

"Don't." She didn't even turn around. "Or else I'll blast you with my new Swarm Crystal."

"How did you...?" He stammers and stutters, pondering the possibility of her having eyes in the back of her small head. She laughs.

"It helps that I've got a silver cup in front of me, right now." She dries her hands and brandishes said cup around. "See? Plus, your boots clicked against the easel. Dark Ace, you need to learn a little stealth."

"I am quite stealthy, thank you very much." He wonders how a six year old can put him down like that, when he's normally impenetrable. Helps her hang up her smock, seeing as the hooks are too high for her to reach. She covers the painting with a black sheet and pins it down.

"There. Now, I've got math next. Would you be so kind as to turn off the lights when you leave?" She doesn't wait for an answer, just glides out the door and slips away. He sighs and flicks the light switch. Watches the room go dark. Closes the door behind him and starts down the hall, towards the training grounds.

Two hours later, the dinner bell rings. He sheathes his sword and starts inside, dripping with sweat, and caked in mud and dirt. He hits the showers before walking up to the mess hall to have dinner. He's still only a lieutenant, still has to eat with everyone else. No one likes him, and he likes no one. Many of the Talons are jealous of his relationship with the Master and his daughter.

He doesn't care. He prefers the solitude. Prefers the quiet time to think and study his strategic notes.

Later that evening, he walks upstairs, on his way to his quarters. A straining, whiny sound meets his ears. He winces and starts off in the direction of the noise, determined to put a stop to it. It's coming from a small room in the back of the level. The door's shut. He bangs on it.

"Hey! Keep it down in there!"

He hears the light pitter patter of small feet. The doors slide open, and a pair of golden eyes greets him coldly.

"It's my room, and it's my violin. I can do as a please, thank you very much."

He's surprised. It's a woman. About his age, a little shorter, even though she's on her tip toes, with long magenta hair that hangs around her face in carefully combed bunches. She's rather thin and rigid. Reminds him of a violin bow...

"Sorry to have bothered you, but could you PLEASE lower the noise level? Some of us DO want to sleep."

"Then wear ear plugs," she retorts.

"I...Just...Dammit."

"Hey, I've seen you before." She puts one hand on her hip, the other one clutching her instrument. "You're the ex-Storm Hawk, aren't you? The one they call Dark Ace?"

"Yes, that's me," he growls through gritted teeth. She laughs, a rather unpleasant sound, seeing as it's meant to hurt.

"I'm Ravess. Sharpshooter in training. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Charmed," he mutters. "Like I said before-"

"If you don't like something, change it. But if it can't be changed, change your attitude. Now, if you'll excuse me," she says, closing the door. "I have practicing to do."

"Wait, wait, wait..." He reaches out to stop her, and the two metal halves of the door slam shut on his wrist. "YEOW! Holy...Christ..."

The doors open, and he pulls his arm back. She pokes her head out again, genuine worry on her face. "You alright?"

"No, I am NOT alright, seeing as you nearly broke my wrist! What were you thinking, woman?" He hops around, trying to dull the pain. She stands still with both hands on her hips.

"Firstly, what DID you hurt, your hand or your leg, seeing as you're hopping around like a kangaroo? Secondly, it wasn't my fault, you were the one stupid enough to stuff your arm between the two door halves. So don't go around placing the blame on innocent damsels like me. No wonder you don't have a girlfriend."

He stops hopping. "Okay, that was low."

She smirks. "Now go away. I've wasted enough time talking to you. And if you come back, I'll have my little brother Snipe beat you up, and you'll have more than a bruised wrist to complain about."

"I'm not scared."

"You should be; the last person that crossed him ended up in a full body cast with an honorable discharge stuffed down his throat."

She relishes the draining of color from his face. He walks away, but not before shooting a glare back. "This isn't over," he barks.

"Oh, I think it is." And with that, she slams the door shut.

He storms down the hall, massaging his wrist, muttering under his breath about how females could be so unpredictable. Finds his room and collapses into bed. Falls asleep in a matter of seconds.

The next morning, he wakes up and doesn't feel different at all. Almost expected some sort of epiphany, a revelation of sorts, some burst of realization, now that he was twenty. Then again, it was just a number. Life is measured in what you do, not how old you are. He stands and feels his wrist; it still aches, but not as much as the previous night. Remembers that infuriating woman, Ravess. Hopes never to see her again.

He showers and dresses, brushes his teeth, and grabs his sword. Opens the door and is greeted by a pair of violet eyes. The only sensible girl he knows. He squats and smiles.

"Hello, there. Morning, Lark."

"Happy birthday, Dark Ace," she says, as sweetly as she can muster. He notices the large and rectangular package that's propped up against the wall opposite and wonders how in the world she carried it down all by herself. She inches closer and opens her mouth.

"If you sing, Lark...I won't speak to you for a week."

Her mouth closes again, before tilting upwards into a grin. "I wasn't going to SING, you know I can't. I was going to ask you how it feels to be twenty."

He stands and runs his hand through his hair. The cold metal of his headgear brushes against his fingers, gives him goosebumps. He shrugs. "No difference, really. Do I get my present, now?"

She taps his ribs. "Manners! Have patience. You'll get it." She walks over to the package and takes out a red crystal from the folds of her cloak. Somehow, she forces her energy into it, and a ribbon of red spirals outwards and wraps around the painting. With a small grunt of exertion, she maneuvers the gift into his open hands. He smiles.

"You've been working," he says. "Nice."

"Little invention of mine. And don't sound so surprised. Now, open the gift, I want to see your forced smile when you realize how horrible it is." She puts the crystal away; she must've turned it off.

He rips the paper from of the painting and peels it away. Flips the canvas over and sees his face. It's like a mirror; she's caught his likeness perfectly. He leans back and strikes a pose. "You know," he says, in a suave voice, "I look pretty good. Not bad, Lark, not bad at all."

She jumps over, beaming. "You're not lying? You really like it?"

He sets the picture down. "Of course I like it. Even if it made me look like some kind of monkey, I'd like it. Even if it made me a WORM, I'd like it. Because it's from YOU." He pokes her nose.

"Pushing it, Dark Ace, pushing it," she growls. But he notices her hidden smile.

"Oh, by the way. You know anyone by the name of Ravess?" He squats again to see her eyes.

"Of course. She's one of the most talented sharpshooter trainees. Father speaks of her with promise; she's well known throughout the palace. Why are you asking?" Lark leaned forward, coy smile playing on her lips. "Does someone like her? Hm? Hm?"

He leans back, almost falling onto his behind. "No, I do NOT! She was downright sassy with me last night and nearly broke my wrist. Teasing me for not having a girlfriend..." He mutters the last line to himself, but Lark hears all. She chuckled.

"I read somewhere that eighty percent of women tease the men they LIKE. And I mean, like-like." She arches her eyebrows. This time, he really does fall onto his rear. Lands with a painful thump. Glares at her.

"Lark?"

"Yes?"

"If you weren't my daughter's boss, I'd have hit you by now. You know that, right?"

"I know."

"Has anyone told you you're extremely annoying?"

"Multiple people, but I don't listen." She grins and starts to leave. "Now, I have training to do."

"Training?" He stands and rubs his sore behind. "What kind of training? You mean math and stuff?"

She stops and turns around. She shakes her head no. "Father thinks it's about time I learned how to fight. My lessons begin today. If I am to be ruler..."

"You might still have a brother, you know." Dark Ace looks at her, worried. "Maybe you won't have to train."

"My mother's dead, and father's as dry as a desert. Everyone knows that, even you. And I know you're worried, but I'll be fine." She grins and places a pale hand on his arm. "Really."

"I know, I know. You'll probably be beating your instructors up in a matter of days," he murmurs. "But still...Watch yourself, Lark. Any battlefield, even a simulated one, has its unexpected dangers."

"I'll remember that. One day, when I'm better, we should spar."

"Er...Yeah. Sounds great." He forces a smile. Him? Fight...a six year old? Even by his standards, that's a bit unfair.

"And don't go easy on me." She starts down the hall again. He follows her reluctantly. "You won't go easy, will you?"

"Of course not."

"Don't lie."

"I'm not lying."

"Uh-huh."

He smiles inwardly to himself. Twenty isn't a bad thing, after all. Sure he doesn't feel different. Why would he want to?

Life is perfect just the way it is.

OOO

A/N: Continued by popular demand! Shall do one chapter for every year, until she's fourteen and the Storm Hawks enter the picture. Review, because I love reviews! And I'll try to respond...


	4. Promises Kept

She's frantic. She runs down the hallway as fast as her legs can carry her. Strange and unfamiliar people part for her as she darts from corridor to corridor, springing to the hospital wings with vigor. She's biting her tongue, holding back a string of swear words that she's picked up from her fighting teacher.

A doctor. White coat, stethoscope, pen in the pocket; most definitely a doctor. She tugs on his shirt. He looks down, just noticing her, and bows.

"Princess! What brings you to our humble...er, wing?"

"I'm looking for the battle casualties," she states. "Where are they?"

"Which battle, m'lady?"

"The latest one. The one near Amazonia, that one."

"Well, they'd be near the landing strip or on the operating tables." He eyes her. "Looking for someone specific, princess?"

But she's already gone, darting towards the hospital dock, dodging nurses with clipboards and injured Talons in slings and casts. Tries not to touch anyone's wounds or bandages; she might get infected with something nasty.

She's in the hospital dock, where all the casualties of war arrive. Looks for his familiar face, but it's nowhere to be seen. Tries asking around, but people just bow, then shake their heads. They're intimidated, she knows. Normally, she'd be pleased, but today, it's not serving her well.

Hears someone shouting.

"I'm fine, dammit!"

Smiles to herself. He's alright. Walks at a dignified pace over to a small cluster of people. Taps one of them on the shoulder; she can reach that high, now.

"I need to speak with him," she says. The nurse draws back, taking the others with her. They disperse, allowing her a clear view of the "patient".

"Hello, Lark," Dark Ace mutters. He's propped up against the wall, legs stretched out in front of him. His right arm is limp and bloody, curled up at his side. His left is attempting to pull himself up.

"You alright?" She glides over and squats down next to him; strange role reversal. It's normally him bending down to see her.

"I'm fine. At least, that's what I've been trying to tell those stupid doctors."

"What happened?" She examines his arm from a distance. It disgusts and entrances her all at once.

"Some lucky Sky Knight, I guess. Broke my...argh...arm." He's managed to pull himself further up and can look her straight in the eye, now. "I'll be fine after a while. Just keep those stupid nurses off me."

"You need a cast."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do. And if you don't get one," she adds, before he can say anything, "I'll see to it that you're fired."

She's backed him into a corner and he knows it. Mutters something about how casts are uncomfortable and itch. She slaps him playfully on his good arm.

"Stop being so childish. And to think I'M the seven year old, here." She stands and gestures at one of the surgeons. "Doctor? Doctor, this patient is ready to cooperate."

The doctor nods, starts across the room. She squats back down and glares at him.

"Why are you STARING at me like that?" He glares back.

"You were being reckless again, weren't you? Tch, tch, tch. Getting yourself into these scrapes. Do you want to see twenty five? Do you?" She smiles meekly and eyes his arm again, before scanning the dock. "How can you stand it here? It smells horrible. Like blood and gauze and medicine."

"I hate it, too," he admits. "And you look worried. Are you worried?" He's grinning. "Lark, you didn't actually WORRY about me when I went off on this mission, did you?"

She fidgets uncomfortably. "Well...You know...The Screaming Queens are a tough squadron, alright? I just...It's...Oh, forget it." She suddenly finds her fingernails extremely interesting. With a good amount of effort, he pulls himself closer to her and gives her a pat on the shoulder.

"As you can see, I'm fine. I'll be up and running in a few months. Now, how's your training going?"

"Fine. The tutor says a few more weeks and I'll be able to beat him."

"You mean, you haven't won yet?" He's surprised; she normally breachers her instructor's level in a matter of days in her other subjects.

She shrugs. "I don't really try. This man's nice, I want him to stick around. I'm afraid if I beat him too early, he'll feel like he's not good enough and leave."

Dark Ace is taken aback. "You're actually being nice! That's a holy miracle!" He begins to gloom. "You're never that nice to ME."

"You can be such a baby for a twenty one year old. Seriously."

The doctor arrives. Lark stands and receives his bow. Stands back and lets him do his work.

She finds a small chair in a dark corner of the hospital dock and curls up, watching the white coated man clean and bandage her friend up. Listens to the shriek of pain as the bone is set. Her eyelids feel heavy, strains to stay awake. Her vision's blurring up. She can't...help...it...

Eyes close. She's asleep.

She's woken by a firm shaking. Her eyes spring open. She sits up.

"What is it?" Looks into a pair of red eyes. Red eyes... "Ace?"

"_Dark _Ace, Lark. Dark Ace. Yes, it's me." He helps her down from the chair. "I would've just taken you back to your quarters without waking you, but I'm incapacitated at the moment." He shows her the sling his arm's in. She pats the cast with a forefinger.

"Good. You got yourself patched up." She yawns and stretches. "What time is it?"

"It's late. I fell asleep, too. Guess the battle drained more energy than I thought." He places a hand on her back and starts to guide her towards the door. "Come. Time for bed."

She follows him willingly. "You know," she muses, "I've never seen you fight. Three years, and I've never seen you in combat."

He pauses. "Lark, I'm not sure you want to. I'm a different person in battle. Sometimes, even _I _don't know who I am when I fight." Then he smiles again. "Maybe we'll spar sometime. In a controlled environment." He thinks it best not to mention the scores of Sky Knights he's sent to the Wastelands.

"Remember your promise."

He thinks back to a year ago, on his birthday. When he swore not to go easy on her, should they ever spar. Maybe it still stood. He doesn't respond, concentrates on walking. Which is rather hard to do, with his eyes half open. But he walks her to her room, all the same, and says good night.

"You be careful, now," he says.

"You too. Watch that arm." She glides into her chambers and closes the door.

He looks around, worried that someone might see him in the royal hallways and punish him. But there's no one there, and he makes his way back to his quarters, falling into the deepest sleep he's had in ages.

Maybe someday, he _will _spar with her.

But he'll still go easy.

Maybe.


	5. Star Filled

Sweat dripped from the spikes of his unruly hair as he dashed around the obstacle course, slashing at the manikins with vigor. Grunts escaped him with every blow. He jumped over the small pit filled with mud and water, skidding to a stop at the other side, decapitating the two remaining dolls. He sheathes his sword and lets out a breath. Turns to the instructor, who shrugs.

"Better. Only three minutes and four seconds," he says. "You've been practicing."

"Of course," Dark Ace says with a grin. "But not enough. I'm going to break that record, someday."

The instructor sighs. "Life isn't a race, man."

"I'm getting too old for this."

"You're younger than all the other colonels. I wouldn't be that disappointed." The instructor puts the stopwatch away, before shooting one last look at Dark Ace. "Watch yourself. Ambition is a double edged sword."

The instructor departs using the staff door. The door right next to that one opens, slowly, revealing a slim and dark shape. He smiles and walks over.

"Lark. What're you doing here?"

She's silent. She glides over to him and wraps both of her arms around his waist, as tightly as she can muster. He's surprised, stands rigidly and lets her hold him. When she lets go and pulls back, he squats down and eyes her with worry.

"Sorry," she mumbles. "It's father."

"What about him?" Dark Ace brushes her hair from her face, to better see her eyes. She's obviously been crying. "Did...did he hit you again?"

"It was just one Firebolt. And a low grade one, at that." She rubs at her dark eyes again. "I just wanted to see it." She glares at Dark Ace with fury. He knows she feels unwanted. He's felt that way before.

"So you were looking at one of his crystals. And then?"

"He just walked in and...and..." Her voice started to crack. "He blasted me."

Dark Ace leaned back in shock. "He WHAT?!"

"He blasted me with the Firebolt." She rolls her cloak back to reveal a patch of fabric that was burned away. He can see the singed skin underneath. She covers it again with a grimace.

"That's a new low," he growls, standing. "I should just go in there and..."

"You'd be killed. Don't. He'll die soon, anyways." She grabs Dark Ace's wrist and yanks him back. "It's not worth you storming in there and getting strung up, tomorrow."

He stares at her and contemplates how an eight year old can be so morbid.

They talk for a while longer. He sits down in the dirt, but she remains standing. They try to change the subject, but he notices every tiny wince of pain she makes, whenever her arm moves. Wishes he could barge into the throne room and end the old man's life. But she's right, it's not worth it, and chances are, he won't succeed. It feels wrong, hating the man who gave him this new life, this new status. A real home. But fathers shouldn't blast their daughters with weapons grade Firebolt Crystals. It just felt wrong, sitting here and watching her try to hold back the pain, hold back the tears.

Doesn't he know? Didn't he live for several years aboard a ship that didn't like him, with people who didn't want him? Wasn't he tossed the lowest job, the co-pilot for the true hero of the group?

Hadn't he felt GOOD when he plunged the sword into his old friend's body? In a sickening way, he felt like justice had been done.

When the sun began to dip, and she started to grow tired, he sent her back to bed. She swore her shoulder was fine, and he had no choice but to believe her. Watched her disappear into the shadows again.

Someone moved behind him.

He turned around.

Crap.

That infuriating golden eyed woman. Ravess. She was eying him curiously.

"You can be very nice, you know?" She walks over, holding her bow in one hand, quiver in the other. "But only when it comes to eight year olds. Still single, Acey-boy?"

"I..." He decides to keep his mouth shut.

"Aw, did I injure your pride?" She grins. "Come on, I'll help you clean this place up." She gestures at the obstacle course, now littered with plastic and cloth body parts. He grimaces and gets to work. They pick up in silence, tossing the used manikins into the large waste bins at the opposite end of the field. It's actually a small cliff that's been set aside for training purposes. It juts out of the main rock formations, with a chicken wire fence keeping its users from falling to the Wastelands.

Most of its users, anyhow.

Once the final piece is tossed, and the lids of the waste bins have been put into place, she shoots him a smile that almost knocks him off the terra. It's an actual smile. From HER. He shakes his head, as if to clear his mind of that image. She starts setting up the grounds anew, this time with targets. He shrinks back into the shadows and watches her train. She fires quickly, with accuracy. Four out of five of her shots finds the bullseye. Her Firebolt powered arrows fizz and crackle when they meet the wood. She stops firing all of a sudden. Wheels around and stares in his direction.

"Are you watching me?"

He pops his head out of the darkness and shuffles around. "Maybe."

She rolls her eyes and gets back to work. He opens the door and descends into the palace again, mind filled with how damn annoying she was.

Wants to find Lark. A girl who understands him, for a change. Sneaks up to her room, knocks on her door, and gets no reply. Opens it himself, sees her sitting at the window, staring at the darkening skies. Walks over and settles down next to her. She turns and faces him, her face pale and blank.

"I want to see stars," she says. "Do you see any?"

"The sky's too polluted to see the stars tonight. Maybe when the clouds clear up." He wipes the mist from the window. He remembers the Atmosian nights, back when he still fought for blue. Remembers counting specks of white and wishing on streaks of fire. So maybe he did leave behind some wonderful and beautiful things. He gives Lark a little poke.

"You want to see stars?" he asks her. She nods. He picks up her mirror and holds it in front of her face. "There. You've got stars in your eyes."

She stares at herself for a few moments, before smiling. "Thanks. I'm surprised you haven't gotten yourself a girl yet. You're so romantic," she says with a giggle.

He rubs his temples. "I'm too busy for relationships. You're tough enough to deal with as it is. And besides, what kind of woman is right for ME?"

"Ravess?"

"You'll pay for that, later," he growls.

She keeps on staring out the window. He leaves her to her reveries, sneaking back out into the darkness of the hallway. Doesn't see her pick up the mirror and count the specks of light in her eyes. Doesn't hear her chuckle to herself and think what a wonderful night it is.

Her evenings will never be starless again.


	6. Crystal Science

"I don't want to."

"Lark..."

"No."

"Please."

"_NO._ You boys and your silly games; I won't go."

"Please. As a favor for last week." Dark Ace stares at his friend pointedly. "I didn't WANT to be your little guinea pig, did I? I didn't ask to be blasted with that Jelly Crystal, did I? I didn't ask to stand in the shower trying to untangle my hair for three hours, did I?"

She cracks a smile. "Your hands looked like very pale prunes."

"They did, indeed." He cocks his head to one side. "Please?"

She places a pale finger on her chin. Thinks about it. Gives in. "Oh, fine. I'll go watch your final exam. Don't get why they're making you take it, anyhow. Everyone knows you're the best in the ranks."

"I think you just complimented me."

"I think I did."

She says a small goodbye and descends down the stairs, on her way to her new crystal lab. Her father had finally given in and allowed her her own place to conduct experiments. She had broken the place in by creating a new Jelly Crystal that she had tested on Dark Ace. He hadn't really been in on the plan, so to speak. Actually, she had just hit him with it in the hallway. The results were catastrophically hilarious.

So it had some glitches. But it was still funny, watching him hold back swear words, storming down the hallway screaming bloody murder.

She opened the door with her key and slid inside. Listened to the hatch close after her. Walked up to the small podium and opened one the drawers. She had gotten a lot taller, could reach things with ease, which was such a convenience, come to think of it. No more jumping up and down to hit door switches, (so undignified), no more carrying a stool around whenever she wanted to open or close the windows.

Her latest project was perfecting her Claw Stone, which was what she called the blood red crystal she used for carrying large objects around. It wasn't strong enough, couldn't lift anything heavier than twenty pounds. She wanted to see if she could use it on a PERSON.

She turned on the crystal merger and let it warm up. Meanwhile, she started tinkering with her other unfinished experiments. They included a Grenade Stone, (which seemed to burp toxic fumes at the user and was more of a stink bomb than anything), a Liquefier Crystal, (which just didn't work period), and an Enhancer Stone, which was an absolute disaster. She couldn't get the chemical composition to react with any weapon of any kind. All it could to was sit around and look pretty.

The crystal merger beeped. She slid the Claw Stone in on one side, and a Nitro Crystal in the other. Wondered what would happen if she combined the two...

Maybe Nitro-Claw Stone, with super lifting powers?

She activated the shield, put on a pair of goggles, and hit the green button. Stood back.

Listened to the machine buzz and whir.

And then...

"BOOM!"

"ARGH!"

She pulled herself up from the ground. Only a singed cloak. It could've been much, much, worse. The crystal merger is broken. She looks at the supply closet; there's still a couple more in there. She wonders how long it'll take for her to run through them all. Probably a matter of days. She removes the two crystals, both still separate entities, both badly singed. She picks up the Claw Stone, focuses, and pushes her will through her hands and into the crystal. A red claw of energy swarms out. It still works.

Wait.

Swarm.

A Swarm Crystal. If she can mix those two together...the claw would be like a giant mass of living energy. A lot stronger. And maybe the chemical compositions of the two stones won't cause her lab to go kaboom.

She works late into the night, tinkering, fixing, merging. Crystal science is an art. You don't just plop two rocks into a machine and cross your fingers. The Nitro Crystal was a whim. This time, she's serious.

Burns the midnight oil.

Finally, when dawn arrives, so does her new crystal. The merger hums and clanks. Then there's a gentle beeping sound. She sighs and opens the hatch. Red steam rises. Putrid, foul smelling steam. She wrinkles her nose. That's not a good sign...

She decides on wearing gloves. Reaches in. She finds the rock and pulls it out. It's smoking, but as soon as the gas has cleared, she can see it's still blood red. She places it in a tub of cold water and watches the steam rise. _Hissssssss._

Lark holds the new crystal and wills it to work. Lets the energy move from her body into the stone. She hears a light popping sound, then opens her eyes in time to see a giant, buzzing, claw, snaking around the room, hungry for something to pick up.

She tries an empty table. It must weigh at least fifty pounds. The claw snakes around it, red spirals twirling about the metal, constricting it. With a lot of exertion, and a small grunt, she lifts the table about three feet off the ground, then sets it down again. Lets go of the crystal. It clatters to the floor, and the claw disappears in a spiral of red.

She plops onto the floor. That took a lot of work. She's drained. Curls up into a little ball and falls asleep.

She dreams she's empress...Someone's coming in with a shipment of Phoenix Crystals...

_Lark..._

_Lark..._

"Lark!"

"Huh?"

She sits up fast, almost knocking her head against her visitor. It's Dark Ace, and he's smiling.

"You didn't lock the door. Did you fall asleep again? Working late?"

She nods. "I've got a new crystal," she says. "It's a good one."

"You tired?"

"I'll be fine."

"Does that mean you can still come?"

She sighs. "Yes...I can come. Just let me get changed." She realizes she's still wearing those ridiculous goggles and tears them off. In her haste, the strap gets tangled in her dark hair. "OW! Oh, crap...Ow, ow, ow..."

He rolls his eyes and is forced to walk over and try to untangle the plastic. "Stand still, now..."

"Don't rip, don't rip..."

He smirks at her. Acts all snarky. "Do you have any shears?"

"Why?"

"We might have to cut it off-"

"NO! Anything but that! Leave them in, do whatever, just DON'T CUT THE HAIR!" She reaches up and places her hands protectively over her scalp. He laughs, doubling over in hysteria, every chuckle hitting her like a wave of humiliation. She grumbles and manages to take the goggles out herself. Leaves him to his own roars.

"You'll pay for that, Dark Ace," she grumbles.

Several hours later, after she's changed into her best robe, she walks down to the stadium. It's where all their sporting events take place. Mostly packed with Talons looking for something to break through the monotony of army life. Her father doesn't usually attend, but he will today. After all, this is his champion. Dark Ace is under a lot of pressure, but he's always been cool under fire. Why should today be any different?

She takes a seat close to her father, in the royal box close to the action, but far enough so that no dust or blood flies onto them. Fidgets uncomfortably. Maybe he won't get close enough for her plan to work. Then again, maybe he will. It all depends on how the fight goes.

The final exam is actually quite simple. It involves the soldier in question fighting the highest ranked officer in the army, not counting the master himself. Dark Ace is far from the top; he's only a colonel. He's only going to be able to reach general status if he passes this final hurtle.

Dark Ace strides out of one of the tunnels leading to the arena, sword in hand, leer on his face. He's calm and collected. Fearless. Several female Talons scream some unintelligible words at him, but he doesn't seem to notice. Grins at Lark, as if to say, _Watch me. Learn something. This is going to be good._

She's excited, mainly because it's the first time she's ever seen him fight. But also because of the little surprise she has for him, after the battle's over.

His opponent arrives, coming out of the tunnel directly below where Lark's sitting. He's large and tall, and to her, nameless. An announcer is saying something, but she doesn't bother listening. He's against her friend, so she doesn't like him. Doesn't bother with giving him any label other than "enemy".

The bell rings. The man draws out a long, single bladed sword. Dark Ace grins, eyebrows raised.

The opponent strikes first.

It's a long, drawn out affair, and Lark finds herself gripping the chair with sweaty palms, chewing on her lip. It's so NERVE RACKING, watching Dark Ace escape injury by centimeters. The battle is not controlled, the only rule is do what you can to win.

It ends with the man running full speed at Dark Ace, who jumped up and off the other man's shoulders, spinning through the air, and landing behind him. The man kept on charging, smacks into the wall opposite, and crumples to the ground, unconscious. Lark eyes her father; he's staring at Dark Ace appreciatively. She musters a few small claps, while the other Talons are either booing or cheering the victor. Bets are paid, curses are spat into the air, and soon, the crowd begins to disperse.

Dark Ace walks towards her, sheathing his sword. Now's her chance. While some of the others are still here.

She pulls out the glittering red crystal and forces as much of her energy as she can into it. A huge red claw, bigger than any one she's ever made before, grabs Dark Ace and sends him spiraling into the air. The claw fizzes away, but he's still flying. With a grunt, he lands close to his still blacked out opponent. Sits up with a groan.

"That," she says, quite coolly as she walks past him, "was for the joke about...shears."

Somewhere behind her, her father and the crowd roared with laughter.

Later that evening, Dark Ace finds her in her lab once more. Knocks first, to let her know he's there. He doesn't want to catch her by surprise and get hit with some new concoction.

"Come in, Dark Ace." She turns around and flips her red crystal from hand to hand. "I assume you've learned your lesson."

"Did you have to do it in front of everybody?" He sits down, rubbing his sore spots. "I mean, REALLY."

"That was the point. Teaches you a bit of humility. Besides, you still passed, didn't you, _general_?"

She's right, he's been promoted. Even though the ceremony was filled with smirks and repressed laughter, he's been handed the title of General Dark Ace.

"I'm sorry, then." He holds out a hand. "No more blasting with that red claw thing, alright? It plays hell with my joints."

"Fine." She takes his hand and shakes. "We REALLY should spar sometime. Now that I have this," she says, waving her crystal around, "I can't lose. But you were pretty good out there."

"It'd be a good fight, if we ever go up against each other."

"Providing you don't go easy."

"After today, I most certainly won't." He stands with a groan. "Maybe you should do it to Ravess next."

"Maybe I should. Thanks for the advice."

"I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"Goodnight."

"I'll sleep with a pair of shears under my pillow, just in case." He runs after making that comment, doesn't stick around to see her reaction. She fumes for a few seconds, then smiles mischievously and sits back down at her workstation. Time to make a crystal that'll glue his mouth shut.

She daydreams about how wonderful that'd be...

Then gets to work.


	7. Forced Dances

His skimmer lands in jolts and bumps. He needs to get a new one; this one's most definitely seen better days. He's dusty and sweaty from the long and slow flight; they couldn't go faster than thirty clicks. Something about "keeping a low profile."

He had been anxious to get home. Today was a big day, for everyone in the Palace. He patted his little side pouch to make sure it was still secure, before striding into the building, leaving a few Talons to put his ride away.

The hallways are dark. It takes time for his eyes to adjust to the new lighting, or lack thereof. It's been a few weeks since he's been here; off doing recon and raiding Atmosian supply carriers. No better than legal piracy, but everyone keeps their mouths shut. Now, with a pocketful of reports and several Cyclonian battleships loaded with supplies and crystals to fuel the empire's ever hungry need for raw materials, he's returned home for a little piece of normal life.

He finds her where he always finds her: in the crystal lab. But today, she's not working, she's just waiting. He opens the door, and she's sitting on her little table, blank expression on her face. However, he sees her eyes light up.

Small bow. "Hello, Lark. Happy birthday."

"Don't you dare sing," she says.

"I never sang all the other years. Why should we break that wonderful cycle NOW?"

"Maybe because it's my tenth and it's a big deal?" She seems a bit sour.

"Are you mad because of the party?" He walks over and sits down next to her. "It's no big deal. A couple hours-"

"The entire thing's meant for ME, so how come I'm always the one who ends up having the least amount of fun?" She crosses her legs and plays around with her newest crystal, a perfected Thunderbolt. "Then again, it might have something to do with the fact that my only friend is a twenty something year old Talon general..."

"You make it sound like it's a bad thing."

She sighs and starts smiling again. "Enough about me. Did you have fun a'riding and a'raiding?"

"Tons, actually. I even got you a present."

"But I most certainly can't see it yet, right?"

"You must certainly cannot."

"I expected as much." She glides off of the desk and struts over to her workstation. She plops the Thunderbolt Crystal into a drawer and leans against it to close it. "Where's it from?"

"We made a little pit-stop at Saharr. They've got everything on that terra. I didn't know there was such a thing as Vulcabats until the other day, when this man offered to sell me the skins of some."

"Oh, that's disgusting," she said, cringing away. "Really...really...disgusting."

"They smelled rather fishy."

"That's probably because they WERE fish skins and he was ripping you off." She eyes him warily. "You didn't actually buy some, did you?"

"Of course not, what do you take me for, a total idiot?"

"Could've fooled me."

He smiles. She's back to her joking self. But there's still tonight to worry about. He knows she hates parties, but in Cyclonia, ten years is a pretty big deal. He leaves her to her tinkering with multiple nagging thoughts in the back of his head. One of which was that if she grew too disinterested, she might come up with something to amuse herself. Something "catastrophically hilarious," as she liked to put it.

Later that night, he changes into his dress uniform, something he hates doing, and walks down to the giant ballroom with the other Talon commanders. He sees Ravess, who still infuriates him, but less so, lately. Perhaps they've both matured. She, too, has passed her finals, and commands a special forces group of Talon fighters. Rumor has it they're also an orchestra.

The ballroom, he must admit, had been decked out quite gloriously. No one was skimping on this event; everyone went all out. After all, Lark was the future ruler of Cyclonia. It was quite obvious that Master Cyclonis did not intend to have a son anytime soon, or even remarry. Rumors floated around that he wanted to remain faithful to his first wife.

Dark Ace called it a load of B.S. Master Cyclonis? Faithful? Anything but.

He found Lark, sitting on a small throne built just for her. She looked extremely bored and rather annoyed, as well. He sneaked up to her and hissed at her; was afraid her father wouldn't want her soliciting with him, even if he was a general by now.

"Lark!"

She turned and smiled meekly when she saw him. "Hello, General."

He raised an eyebrow and bowed, rather hesitantly. "Lark."

"What...are...you...doing?" She said this from the corner of her mouth. He realized she was trying to keep their conversation...discreet. He followed along.

"Lovely evening, isn't it?"

"Yes, quite."

_"__You bored yet?" _he whispered.

_"Like hell," _she hissed back.

"Right, me too." He glanced around, looking for some familiar faces. No one, save Ravess, who he was trying to avoid. For some reason, he often found himself wanting to talk to her, yet stay away from her, all at once.

"Maybe you should dance with someone," Lark said, evil grin playing on her lips.

"No one's available," he muttered.

"There's Ravess."

"I feel like throttling you." He eyes her. "NO."

"How's this then: I ORDER you to go dance with her, and if you don't, I'll have you punished. Greatly. You wouldn't want to get blasted with my Thunderbolt, would you?" She flutters her dark lashes.

"I...You...I..." He stammers, looking for a good retort. "I don't want to!"

Oh, great. She threatens him with some permanent bruises, and all he can come up with is an _I don't want to. _He wonders if he's not going totally senile. She gives him a little shove, pale hand on the small of his back. He lurches forward, onto the dance floor. Ravess is only a few feet away. She inches over.

"Is she making you dance with me?" she hissed.

"Yes," he hissed back. "You too?"

"She had a little 'chat' with me, right before the ball. Something about how I need a life." Ravess rolled her golden eyes. "Kids. What're you going to do?"

"You got that right." He glances up at Lark, who's tapping her fingers against the hand rests of her chair expectantly. She mouths a little _Do it!_

He sighs and holds out his hand. "Shall we? I do want to keep my job...and my life."

"Point taken." She slides her hand around his. "Let's hurry up and get this over with."

He silently begs for the next song to be a short one, and she's obviously thinking the same thing. As they walk onto the floor, he hears several cat calls from the tables and shoots several red eyed glares at the makers. They shut up pretty quickly. The song begins. Joy of joys, it's a slow one. He glances at Lark, who's doubling over with laughter. No doubt it was her doing.

Ravess moans. "How do you live with her?"

"Practice. Lots and lots of practice. And some teeth gritting." He's unsure as to where he's supposed to put his other hand. She grabs it and places it on her waist. He shudders. This is extremely awkward. They start to move, her other arm slipping onto his shoulder.

"So..."

"So...Are we supposed to talk, or...?"

"I don't really know."

They move past Lark and Master Cyclonis. He's raising his eyebrows at Dark Ace, and she's holding back cackles of glee. He realizes that he's her distraction from total boredom at the party. He says so to Ravess.

"Hey, don't you start thinking you're the only one," she hisses. "I don't like this either."

All the other couples are shooting them strange looks. They do their best to avoid them, stay in the darker spots of the dance floor. The singer is crooning softly, the band playing a very quiet song. It's easy to close his eyes and forget who he's dancing with...

"Hey," she barks. "Don't fall asleep on me."

"I won't."

Their eyes meet, and he snaps his head away, back towards Lark. Her expression has changed from one of amusement to one of obvious interest. Her eyebrows are raised and she's mouthing something at him. It takes a while to realize what she's trying to say.

_Lover boy._

He shoots a couple snarls at her, trying to get his point across.

Finally, the song ends. It's like his arms are glued to Ravess, and hers to him, because they hold on for a few seconds longer. Then, abruptly, and blissfully, they retract their appendages and move away slowly.

"Nice knowing you," she mutters.

"Ditto," he mumbles. He walks back to Lark, who's given in to her laughter. Master Cyclonis tries not to look Dark Ace straight in the eye; he'd probably start laughing as well, if he did. Perhaps a sick sense of humor runs in the family.

"That was..._pant..._hilarious..._pant..._We should do it again sometime..._ha ha..._" She points at him. "You're a pretty good dancer."

"I'm many things, Princess." He bends down, close to her ear. "But one thing I am NOT is a _Lover boy._"

"You enjoyed it, I know you did. And I think she did, too. Look, her face is all red." She points at Ravess, and she's right; the sharpshooter is a deep shade of vermilion. A huge, dark haired man is talking to her.

"Who's that?" Dark Ace asks. Lark giggles.

"Is somebody jealous?"

"I am NOT! I'm...just curious."

"Uh-huh. He's her brother, Snipe."

Somewhere in the catacombs of his mind, Dark Ace remembers Ravess mentioning her younger brother sending a Talon to the hospital several years ago. He's a bulk of a man; a good nickname would've been "The Blob". However, one look into his vacant eyes told Dark Ace that he wasn't all that bright. He stands back up and scans the dance floor.

Meanwhile, his mind is flying at a hundred clicks an hour. That was an extremely awkward dance. But it wasn't as bad as he thought it'd be. At least Ravess cooperated. At least she didn't poke him in the ribs with her bow, or something immature like that.

The night draws on, filled with Lark's small snarky grins. He feels his own face begin to turn hot.

Finally, when the night's grown old and Lark's grown tired, he taps her on the shoulder. "Still want your present?"

"Yes..._ha ha..._Sorry. Yes, I do."

He digs around in his pocket and pulls out a dark, violet crystal. The color of her eyes. "Isn't it lovely? Month's pay to get you this."

"An Oblivion Stone...Oh my...frigging..."

"Do you regret punishing me so?"

"A little." She reaches out and takes it, entranced by the stone. "Oh, wow. These are extremely rare!"

He decides to leave her with her own raptures. There's no chance she'll be bored, now. He realizes that he's just given her a new toy to threaten people with, but if it keeps her quiet about that sharpshooter for a few days, then it's a pretty good trade-off. He leaves the ballroom, starting for bed.

He rounds a corner, not watching where he's going...

"Watch it!"

Looks up to see he's bumped into...Ravess. This is what some would call irony.

"Oh, it's you," she grumbles. "Look, sorry about tonight."

"S'not your fault," he says. "I apologize as well. Maybe one of these days, I'll get back at her. Make her dance with your brother, perhaps."

"Now that," she says with a laugh, "Would be funny. Although Snipe's not really much of a dancer, if you get my drift."

"Well, goodnight."

"Goodnight."

He watches her disappear down the hall, magenta hair fluttering from the breezes that drifted in from the open windows. He turns down the hallway, retiring for the night, hating birthdays more than ever.

OOO

A/N: It's so much fun smacking Dark Ace down, and even more so when it's a ten year old doing the smacking. But I think the ice between DA and Ravess is melting...if you get my drift...

Maybe, maybe. We'll see where my evilly evil imagination takes this...


	8. Letting Go

She plops down into bed. It's been a very long day, a very tedious one. It's late, almost midnight, but for some reason, she can't sleep.

She hates growing up. Puberty has taken upon itself the task of draining all her energy, all the time. She's gotten a bit taller, her limbs are lankier, and to cap it off, she's started to see tiny small red dots on her face. And they ITCH. Parts of her are growing at speeds she detests.

Her life is nothing short of a living hell.

She's read about this stage in a girl's life. She makes it her business to read about EVERYTHING. Apparently, something her body starts releasing called hormones could effect her behavior and the way her mind works. She hopes it won't make her act stupid or erratic. She hates it when that happens. O.k, so she admits that the rush of adrenaline she gets during fights is thrilling...but she doubts these high levels of testosterone and other chemicals will do the same thing.

Dark Ace isn't around. Off on another mission, not to return until the next day.

He could've helped. After all, he's already been through this whole growing up business. Granted, he's not female, but he's all she's got. It's not like she has a mother she can talk to...

Her mother. Hm. Lately, for some reason, she's been hoping for more female company. Her Nanny was sent away a while ago; she no longer needs her. Dark Ace is a good person to talk to, but he's a _guy_. And she's a _girl. _Even if she is a good fourteen years younger than him, it doesn't...click. She's considered the possibility of Ravess, but every conversation she holds with the female sharpshooter are strained and strictly on a master-servant basis. In hindsight, she probably deserves it after what happened last year at the birthday party.

Lark fidgets. Her entire body and mind wants to move, to fight, to run around like a maniac. She wonders if there are any sparring partners available at this time of night. Dark Ace still hasn't given her that spar he's promised her. She's beginning to think he's avoiding her. And with good reason.

Her father is ill. He's gotten worse, and even though he's carrying on with his duties as boldly as ever, everyone can tell that he's getting older. It'll be a few more years, tops, before he breaks down entirely. And then she'll take over.

Much as she hates to admit it, as soon as she becomes Master Cyclonis, Dark Ace will become no more than a servant. A high ranking one, but a servant nonetheless. And that is what their relationship will become: master-servant. He'll always hold something special inside her; he's the closest thing to a father or brother she's ever known. But there will come a day when he won't be able to call her Lark. And there will come a day when she will no longer be able to smile at his jokes, and he shall no longer be able to make them. No doubt his avoiding her is part of a preparation for the separation.

She's lost count of the times she has begged some unknown and nameless being for release. For a normal life. No imposing throne waiting for her. No high and dark title. She wants to enjoy her childhood while it lasts. She wants to be an average eleven year old. But she was never normal, never will be, never can be. Something inside her gnaws so hard it hurts, aches to be released. Perhaps it's the hormones speaking, but she wants something. Something she doesn't have a name for. And how can you find a piece of a broken heart? Didn't the ashes of a normal life scatter too long ago for her?

Her only friend, and she'll lose him in a couple years.

She remembers the night he told her she had stars in her eyes. The Cyclonis in her knows she's getting too old for such childish nonsense. So why does she still count the specks of light in her irises whenever he's out on a mission?

She's lonely and she knows it.

Wants company, a person who could understand every aspect of her life. And that included being a teenage girl. Would she ever find such a human being? Unlikely.

She pulled the covers over her slim body and listened to her stomach rumble. She remembers she hasn't eaten dinner. But she doesn't want to either. She's warm and comfortable; the urge to move has passed. Soon, her belly shuts up, and all she can hear is the rasp of her breathing, the pounding of her heart, and the rustle of a breeze that's decided to pay her chambers a visit.

She grows warm and tosses the sheets off, only to grow cold again. Mutters a few swear words, and her mind seems to clear. Pulls the covers over herself, but sticks a few limbs out to stay relatively cool.

What time is it? Does it matter? Probably not, but her curiosity is insatiable. She sits up from her comfortable position and looks at the clock. Reads twelve thirty. Only six more hours, and he'll be back. She can last six hours. Lies back down and tries to sleep. Even counts skoaks in her head. Counts backwards from a hundred, a thousand, a thousand five hundred...

Looks at the clock again. One in the morning. It's only been a half an hour?!

She gets up and paces.

Damn these stupid hormones.

Sits down at her desk and rests her cheek against her fist. Whistles some silly tune. Fiddles with her pen.

She gets back up and walks over to the balcony. Opens the rusty French doors. It's been a while since she's gone out there, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Wrapping a warm cloak around her shoulders, she glides out and leans on the railing. Looks up into the dark and starless sky. Sees nothing but red smog and black clouds. Looks down, sees the burning gold furnaces of the always working mines. It's beautiful, in a dark and dangerous sort of way.

Time passes, but she doesn't know how much. Stays out there for hours. Finally, the clouds begin to lighten, and the sun peeks out from the east. An endless horizon brightens with gold and pink. For a few brief moments, she catches a glimpse of the morning stars.

The door behind her opens. She turns to see a smiling face.

"I'm home," he says with a chuckle.

"I know you are." Surprises him with a grin.

They watch the sun rise.


	9. Growing Up

She was, once again, keeping busy, prying her mind away from the ever imposing task of ruling an empire. He watched her work, watched her bustle around her crystal lab, muttering her own words to keep those uttered by her advisers and tutors in the back of her head. He felt a tinge of pity, but knew better than to let it show. She didn't need anyone's sympathy, or even empathy, for that matter. She just needed something steady to hold onto. And right now, he was that something.

"It's almost your birthday again," he said. "Shouldn't you be happy?"

"Thirteen? I'm not overjoyed." She sighs. "And it's not in three months. Don't busy yourself buying a present, Dark Ace. It's not worth it."

He wonders how many other teenagers are this depressing. She's almost a real teen, and yet...she remains so morbid.

"Well...if you REALLY don't want that Blizzard Crystal you've been talking about so much..." He starts for the door.

"Wait!"

He pauses, smile spreading across his face.

She turns and stares at him, utter shock on her face. "You got hold of...of a Blizzard Crystal?"

"You'll never know," he smirked. "I thought you didn't want a present."

"Well, that was before I knew you had a Blizzard." She smiles. "Maybe I do want it."

"The deal isn't finalized yet, but I should have it by your birthday."

"Whee hoo," she mumbles quietly. All of a sudden, she freezes, cups her hands to her mouth, and lets out a small gasp. Her violet eyes widen to almost scary proportions. "Oh my God. Did I...Did I just say 'Whee hoo'?"

"I..." He's a little confused. "I think so, yes..."

"CRAP!" She stands, shaking like the final leaf of autumn. "That's bad! I'm turning into a teenager! What am I supposed to DO? Next thing, I'll be wearing dresses and start liking the color pink!"

"I highly doubt-"

"OUT!" She jumps up from her seat. "OUT, OUT! I need to work on something! Go!"

He finds himself shoved unceremoniously out the door. "Lark, I think you're being a little..."

The door slams shut in his face.

"...paranoid," he finishes. "Oh, what the hell."

He starts down the hallway for the training girls. He figures he'll never understand women...of all ages. Take that specimen Ravess, for example. One moment, she's a perfectly fine person to deal with, particularly in battle. But at home, she's a perfect pest. He shakes his head. _This is what you get for growing up without a mother, _he thinks to himself. _An utter misunderstanding of the opposite sex._

A few hours later, after some meaningless screaming at Talons and some tinkering with his skimmer, he goes back down to the crystal lab. It's empty. He turns back upstairs, only to bump into Lark on his way. She's reading a book, not watching where she's going.

"Oh, hello."

"Hello..." He glances at the title of her book. _Cyclonian Tactical Strategies_. "That's some heavy stuff."

"I figure if I read a lot of tough material, and do a lot of...mature things, I can skip over the teenager phase entirely. Maybe that way, when I take the throne, I won't act like an immature idiot." She continues down the hallway, waving him off. "Just leave me alone for a few hours. I don't get this part about sharpshooter placements and...flanking."

He raises his eyebrows. _Sharpshooter placement and flanking procedures? _He didn't read that book until right before he took his final exam, and even then, he didn't get a word it was talking about. If she could eat that book and digest it too, then she really did deserve to be queen of Cyclonia. He starts up the stairs, back to his room.

He turns on the radio. It doesn't work. He sticks his head out of his window and feels droplets pattering down. By the time night falls, a full blown storm has come to Cyclonia. Lightning, both red and white, flashes in the distance, and wind battered the windows, aching to be let in, moaning about its travels and its urge for a home. There's a soft knock on the door that he barely hears over the thunder. He opens it. The metal halves slide open with a soft click. Lark's deep eyes greet him solemnly.

"Good evening, Princess," he says, seeing as there are several Talons in the hallway.

"Can I come in?"

"Of course." He bows, lets her inside, and closes the door. She looks around the new quarters; general's rooms are slightly more lavish than those of a regular Talon's. She hasn't been in here before, takes in the new environment before settling down in his chair. He sits on the bed.

"Sorry to bother you," she grumbles. "The crystals won't work up in my room. Storm's energy current blocks all the energy currents from the stones. It's pitch dark up there."

"And since my room is lower..."

"The storm doesn't affect your stones, yes." Her eyes are glimmering. "Thought I'd talk to you about...something."

"What?"

"When I take the throne..."

"Yes?"

"You do realize things will change, right?"

"Well, of course. Lark, you're not thinking out army and economical strategies...NOW, are you?"

She shakes her head, even musters a laugh. "I don't mean those changes. I mean...between the two of us."

He's silent for a few moments, and when he does talk again, it's just one syllable. "Oh."

"I think you know what I'm talking about," she whispers. "I don't know if I even want this. I just want things to stay the way they are. I think they're perfect, right now." She looks at him, something like pleading mounting inside her voice. "I'm so sorry. I don't know what else to DO."

"It's fine, Lark. It's not your fault. I guess we both need some adjusting, before you finally claim that title."

"Father might always have a son," she quips.

They both chuckle, but only halfheartedly.

She stands and opens the door. The hallway's empty now. She slips outside. Thunder booms, lightning flashes. He watches her shake for a few moments, then straighten and look him in the eyes again.

"You alright? You know, alone. On a night like this."

She shrugs. "I think I'll be fine." Then she smiles. "After all, I'm growing up, whether we like it or not."

"That's very true, Lark."

She fades into the shadows, and he remembers the first day he met her, so many years ago. She was so small, so mature for her age. Still was.

Only four. A toddler, to most eyes. To him, she was already knowledgeable about a chaotic and seemingly unknowable world.

Did she still have that delicate shell around her? Yes. And the years hadn't hardened it, they had made it even thinner, hammering away. He worries, all the time. And soon she'll be ruler. What then?

And the worst part is that he knows she's right. She's growing up.


	10. Broken Walls

She felt GOOD.

Adrenaline pumping, heart thumping, muscles tight and ready for action at a moment's notice. Her brain was going faster than a skimmer with twenty Nitro Crystals pumped into it. Her eyes darted from one side of the playing field to the other.

This was just a game to her. A silly whim that she could manipulate and twist around her little finger. This was real fun.

The Raptor didn't have a chance.

He lunged too fast, misjudged her distance, and dashed right over her head. She wheeled around, shot a blast of blue at him, and watched him fly into the wall, trailing blood as he skidded to the ground. She didn't even have to try.

A spatter of applause from the stands. She looked up to see Dark Ace, smiling appreciatively.

"Nice, very nice. Maybe you should..."

"Wake him up?" She walked over to the Raptor, flipped her staff around, and shot him with the other crystal. His green and scaly eyelids fluttered open, revealing the slitted pupils and yellow eyes. He snarled in a good natured manner, (didn't really have a choice, seeing as she could blast him again,) before turning around and leaving the arena, tail flicking behind him.

"I love it when the Raptors pay us a visit."

"Bogaton is a strong ally," Dark Ace mused. "And yet it's so much fun beating those lizards up."

"Come down, we'll fight. You still haven't sparred with me yet." She was breathless and exhilarated; her cheeks glowed a rosy red. He'd never seen her this thrilled before, not even in her lab. Fighting was a second nature to her. He shook his head no.

"I'm just here to deliver you a message."

"And that would be...?"

"Your father requests your presence in the throne room."

She froze. Her smile was wiped clean and her cheeks turned deathly pale again. He regretted saying it; jumped over the partition and into the ring.

"I'm sure it's nothing," he said, trying to reassure her, but not succeeding. "I'm sure it's just..." He's out of ideas.

"Well, can't hold it off forever." She handed him her staff and trotted out the door. He glanced at the weapon, then dashed after her, feet skidding on the newly waxed floors. He almost crashed into a wall.

"Lark, wait!"

She stopped all of a sudden. In order to avoid colliding with her, he turned and slammed into a light fixture. She laughed, hands placed on her slim hips. He pulled himself up off the ground, dignity torn into shreds. Let loose a small growl, but she didn't back down in the slightest.

"That wasn't funny," he hissed.

"Yes it was." She watched him dust himself off. "What was it you wanted?"

"I'm coming with you. He never said you had to go in there alone. If he tries something-"

"Dark Ace...No."

"I just want to make sure."

"No."

"I don't care if you blast me, I'm going in there if I have to drag myself, piece by piece, through the door." He grabbed her by the shoulders and steered her towards the door. "Now, MARCH." She rolled her eyes but complied. He handed her staff back to her, and she flicked it in his direction several times, but he didn't even flinch. She realized he was actually serious.

"You're suicidal," she remarked.

"Probably."

The black doors slid open. The throne room was silent, silent as death. Dust bunnies made more noise. Ravens made of metal lined the aisle that led to the dark throne. Red, low grade Firebolts provided lighting. Flags that bore the crimson emblem of Cyclonia, a raven twisting itself into striking position, hung from the ceiling in seemingly endless hordes. And sitting on the dais, smack in the middle of the room, was Master Cyclonis himself.

He and Lark bore little resemblance, save the black hair and constantly furrowed brow. He was tall and well built, whereas she was small and light. His eyes glowed like dying embers, changing with the light. Sometimes gold, sometimes red, sometimes a blazing orange. Hers remained dim and dark, emotions hidden behind the cloud of violet. Only when she was angry did the spark inside her ignite, and her eyes would flash red.

He beckoned them both, raised an eyebrow at Dark Ace but didn't dismiss the man. Even though he was getting older and more sickly, Master Cyclonis commanded respect with his presence alone, something Lark had inherited and put to use at a young age.

She curtsied, Dark Ace bowed. Her eyes stayed fixed on the ground. Her father spoke.

"Do you know why I've called you here?"

"No, sir."

He laughed, a hiss that sounded like a snake, readying for the kill. "We all know I won't last much longer."

_I hope not, _she thought bitterly. Her mouth, however, remained shut. Her father continued.

"When the dreadfully unfortunate event of my death falls upon us, you shall take the throne."

"Yes, sir."

"And when you do, I want you to terminate your friendship with the General."

At this point, Dark Ace snapped his head up and glared with a surprising intensity at his master. You could almost hear his teeth grinding against each other. Lark, however, remained stoic as always, her impeccable sense of self control keeping her emotions locked up.

"Y-yes, Sir."

"Don't think I haven't noticed you two. Childhood is childhood, and I appreciate the times when he's done for you the things I can't."

_Yes, you never could find time for your little girl, could you? The disappointment of your life; you don't want a FEMALE on the throne, _she thought, mind racing.

"Of course, sir," she muttered.

"But there will come a time when you shall be his master, and he shall become your servant. I'm telling you now so that you won't have to break it off...too suddenly. That's all, really."

Was it sympathy she saw in his eyes? Regret?

"Oh, and Dark Ace..." The Master waggled an eyebrow. "Watch your step, man. You know what I mean, I'm sure. Dismissed, the both of you."

And as they left, a dark chuckle followed them out, a haunting reminder of what just happened.

"We knew this would happen," she muttered to her friend. "We knew, we knew, we knew."

"But not this SOON!" He sighed. "This is _stupid_."

"The hell it is. It's reasonable. I'd be liable to play favorites, to get connected. And what if you died? You could die, Dark Ace. You're not immortal. I can't let my feelings get in the way of...of..."

"Ruling an empire, I know. You sound like HIM."

She watched something that looked like sorrow inside her friend's eyes, and regretted her words. The truth hurt. You build your walls out of lies and half baked facts. But there will come a time when a brick, a lie, crumbles to dust, and when you replace it with a truth, the foundation is no longer there, and your walls go tumbling down. The walls are Life, and the bricks are all the moments, the laughter, she's ever shared with the only friend she's ever had.

"Dark Ace?"

"Yes, Lark?"

"I'm sorry."


	11. Parting Gifts

Black. Why black? The robe was far too small. She fidgeted inside it, felt the rough fabric chafe against her skin. Tried to scratch, then felt extremely awkward, seeing as everyone else was sitting straight as rods. Her eyes glided over the multitudes of Talons and other workers. Even caught a glance of Dark Ace, further towards the back, standing next to Ravess and Snipe. Only she and two others were sitting. One was her father's closest adviser, the other an old family friend she didn't know very well and wasn't sure she wanted to either.

The coffin seemed very plain, very eerie. Deep black wood, imported from conquered terra. She couldn't see his body, hadn't seen it yet, and didn't want to see it, either. But she had to.

The man next to her, the friend or the adviser she wasn't sure, stood and walked up to the podium. Cleared his throat and began to give some long and meaningless elegy. She didn't know what the point was. Everyone hated him, even his friends hated him, and everyone was glad to see him go. She rolled her eyes when the man said, "...a dedicated father...", had to try extremely hard to hold back a snort.

He finished. Finally. He beckoned at her with a long and twitching forefinger. She stood, robe rustling. A few mumbles were heard from the crowd.

"...so young..."

"...a girl..."

"...responsible enough?"

True, she was barely fourteen, but they didn't have to make such a big fuss about it. The man handed her a small basket filled with the petals of some black flower. She thought about how stupid this was, felt like throwing them in his face, but kept herself in check. Strode up to the coffin and glanced inside.

He looked very pale. She didn't have to touch him to know he was cold. Tossed the petals onto his body, then bustled back to her seat, still clutching the empty basket. Looked at Dark Ace, who winked in her direction. She mustered a tiny smile.

Finally, the ceremony was over, and there was the sound of three chairs scraping and an awful lot of feet moving. They'd be back in this hall tomorrow for her coronation. Shit.

Her coronation.

Why were they bothering?

So much ceremony, so much...pomp and circumstance. And she had to wear another DRESS. She was bustled out of the room before she could so much as look at Dark Ace. They were purposely keeping them apart, she knew it. Felt horrible. Waited, waited, waited, for the right moment to walk up to him, to apologize, to try and figure out how in the world they were supposed to maintain their friendship. What could her father do about it now? Come back and haunt her? She shuddered at the thought.

Later, up in her NEW chambers, the large rooms that her father once lived in, she busied herself with organizing the closets and putting her crystal collection in place. Ran her hands over the many stones, most of which had been given to her by Dark Ace. Her crystal labs were now abandoned; she'd be using a new one installed right in the throne room.

Sighed. Rubbed her temples. Longed to go for a walk or stride out onto her old balcony, but it was impossible. Three Talons were outside, watching her. Keeping people out, and keeping her IN. She could take them down easily, but something told her that a pile of unconscious bodies would be a tad suspicious.

Night fell. She was tired of being cooped up like some caged animal. Knew how the canary she once had as a pet felt, now. No wonder it died after a few weeks. She knew she'd shrivel up if she was kept in here.

Wait.

Noises.

Grunts from outside.

The doors clicked open, and the red and exhilarated face of Dark Ace poked in. "Can I, uh, enter, Your Highness?"

"Save it for later. Come on, then."

He slunk in. "You might want someone to take care of...them." He pointed at the three Talons, now sprawled against the opposite wall. "They might look suspicious."

She tried to smile, but didn't succeed. Merely sat down and blinked a few times.

He closed the door. Plopped down on the bed next to her. "Last night we'll be able to talk openly, right?"

"Right. Last night you'll be able to call me Lark." She gripped her left hand with her right to keep it from shaking. "Oh, this is so silly."

"I've been practicing my 'obedient servant' voice," he said. "I think I've gotten better."

"Really? Let me hear it."

"Ah-hem. 'That would be my pleasure, Master Cyclonis.'" The voice was dark, almost like a hiss, something that distanced himself from her. Any connections they once shared, any cables that tied them together, were severed. She heard the melancholy. The years had changed them both.

"It's fine." She turned towards him. "You going to be alright?"

"I think I'm the one who should be asking that question. At least I've got battles to keep me busy. You're stuck here all the time."

"Point taken."

"Lark."

"What?"

"Just saying it for the sake of saying it. I'm going to have to get used to calling you...Master. I'll always think of your father when I say that, you know. It'll be awkward."

"You'll get used to it." She ran her fingers through her hair. "No more games, Dark Ace. We both know how this is going to end."

"Yes, yes we do," he said, quite solemnly. "It ends with a gift."

"A what?"

"A gift." He dug through his coat and pulled out a package. "And don't you dare forget it's from me."

She took the parcel. It was soft, cloth like. Peeled the paper away and smiled. "Perfect. Now I won't have to wear his."

It was a cloak. Long and silky, a deep violet. And the best part was the hood. Deep feathers of some bird, built so that they uncurled at a brush of her fingers, or a sudden burst of light. She slid it on and pulled it close. Smelled the smell of new clothes and grinned.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you so much."

He noticed her eyes watering. He stood and, after a moment's hesitation, wrapped a strong arm around her thin shoulders. "Hey. Don't let rain cover up those stars."

"Guess this is goodnight, isn't it?"

"In more ways than one." He looked into her eyes. Saw something soft inside. All these years...

He turned to leave, trying not to break down. Hadn't he loved her, loved her like the sister he'd never had? Enjoyed all the afternoons they'd spent talking, teasing each other, all the birthdays, all the balls, the silly moments when they teased her teachers both up close and at a distance? Wouldn't he miss showing her the stars in her eyes, presenting her crystals, calling her Lark?

The door opened. The Talons were still there, still unconscious. He was about to disappear into the hallway, when her voice stopped him.

"Dark Ace?"

He turned to look at her. "Yes, Lark?"

"We really should spar sometime."

She listened to him chuckle sadly, then watched the door close behind him. Collapsed in bed and let her heart ache itself to sleep.

Perhaps life wouldn't finish with her until everything she loved was taken away.

OOO

A/N: One more chapter left, and that's it. I'm going to miss writing this, it's been tons of fun.


	12. Redeeming Words

He waited for her on the balcony. Blue and red erupted in the distance; he knew he should be at the front, right now, keeping the enemy at bay. But he stayed here. Something tied him back. He kept on glancing at the Message Crystal he clutched in one sweaty palm. Remembered her voice, muttering out the words.

"Tonight. The balcony. At sunset."

He didn't need any further explanation.

The years had slipped by, too fast yet too slow all at once. Before he knew it, he was defeated, over and over by the same idiotic little boy. Son of a former friend, apparently. And she, too, had been bested by another child. A naive rag tag squadron that dragged themselves across the Atmos, on a mission.

He closed his eyes...and turned the clock back...

OOO

Strode down the dark hallway. Unsure, but tried to look stoic and certain, as always. Entered the room slightly later than usual, just back from a scouting mission near Gale. Saw the others already assembled: Ravess, Snipe, even Repton and his Raptors. The whole gang was here.

Her back was to him. Still wore the cloak he gave her a week ago. She was speaking to the others. "...and as soon as my Talons clip the wings of the Sky Knights, they will be."

"That would be my pleasure, Master Cyclonis," he hissed, red eyes glittering.

"The Dark Ace. So glad you could join us."

And her unearthly voice chilled him.

OOO

The support beam was falling. He stared at her small body, stretched out underneath the soon to be fallen metal, then glanced at the disappearing red head. There was no competition between what he should do.

Dove between her and the steel.

Let the darkness come.

OOO

"You lost," she stated, quite plainly. "Again."

"Yes, Master."

"This is getting old, Dark Ace."

"My apologies, Master."

"It's been a year, Dark Ace. One year too much, don't you think?"

"Yes, Master."

"Go. Kill the boy. And this time..." She turned to face him, eyes in shadow. "...no mistakes.

OOO

They watched the kingdom explode. The rebellion had begun several months ago, deep in the bowels of the furnaces and mines of Cyclonia, and now was a full blown revolution. With wounds from both inside and out, the entire empire was collapsing on itself.

She didn't say a word. He didn't say anything, either.

One look was all it took.

And they both knew who's fault this was.

OOO

The distant explosions jolted him back to the present. Things had spiraled out of control, but there were several constants he could almost always rely on. Ravess' jokes, Snipe's stupidity, and of course, HER. Even though they had grown apart, had become shadows and shells of human beings, something in both of their hearts clung on and echoed of what had once been.

Empty hallways that once resounded with laughter. Silent arenas once filled with rising dust and the sounds of a fight.

Dusty balconies and stark windows, once backdrops for star filled eyes and comforting words.

Footsteps.

The creak of rusty French doors opening.

"Evening, Dark Ace."

He turned and saw her, walking towards him. She looked different. Tired. More tired than any other seventeen year old he'd ever met in his life.

Three years had taken their toll on both of them. What more could he have expected? Yet sometimes, when they were alone in the throne room, he saw something that looked a lot like remorse inside her.

"Master."

"You and your silly formalities."

He bowed, force of habit. She tilted her head and walked over. Grabbed his shoulder and pulled him up. He stared at the pale hand wrapped around his arm, wasn't too sure what to make of it. She let go and strode over to the edge; leaned over the railing. "It's over, isn't it?"

He didn't answer. Kept his mouth shut, for fear that if it opened, a river of lies would pour out. And he had learned, long ago, that bricks made out of falsehoods cracked at the slightest hint of pressure. She smiled, the first smile he'd seen in years.

"Master, is there a reason you called me up here?"

"Look at it. All of it." She gestured at the mighty battlefield before them, not answering his question. "We've lost, Dark Ace."

"We can always keep on fighting, Master." The words sounded stupid, as soon as he said them. She glared at him. No matter how hard they fought, no matter how many men and resources they poured into this war, it was all delaying the inevitable.

"Still calling me 'Master'?"

"Of course."

"Stop, then."

He looked at her, curiosity mounting. "Why?"

"Why what?" She turned towards him. "What's the point?" She sighed. "I never could figure this out. Always was too young, too inexperienced. But maybe I did alright, for a teenager."

"You did fine. Better than we could've hoped for. Ravess and Snipe have the bruises to prove it."

"Really?" She laughed bitterly. "Remember when we were both young and naive?"

"You were young. I wasn't. And yet, I suppose we were both rather black and white in our ways, yes." He eyed her warily, wondering where this conversation was going. It had been a long time since he'd spoken to her like they were both people.

"We found the gray in between, didn't we Dark Ace?"

"I think we did, Lark."

He noticed her tiny grin at hearing her own name again. "You never did give me the spar you promised."

"We could do it now." He reached up for his sword.

"I'm too tired, and you're needed at the front." She shrugged. He put his hand down. "I guess this meeting was for redemption," she concluded.

"What do you have to redeem, Lark?" He sighed as well. They were two, big, groaning machines, tonight. "If anyone owes anyone anything, it's me."

"YOU?" She chuckled dryly. "That's funny. You don't owe anything. Your bill is clean, save the fact that..."

"I killed people?"

"Yes, that."

Her quiet demeanor scared him; one would've thought a woman about to lose her empire, and possibly her life, would be a little more paranoid. But Lark always had her ways, had millions of loopholes to climb into. And most of the time, she dragged him along for the ride. He watched her violet eyes dart from one side of the sky to the other. Watched her mourn in her own little way. Nothing was eternal, every story had an ending. Either that, or it went in circles forever, never to reach a real...meaning. Maybe that was why life ended. Why empires crumbled. Why friendships faded.

"Dark Ace..."

He didn't look at her this time. Let her continue. Didn't trust himself to speak.

"I'm sorry it had to end the way it did."

He let her words sink in. Watched their battle carriers pound away. He reached out and grabbed her hand. "Don't be sorry, Lark. Wasn't your fault we had to end it this way."

"You don't have to go back." She nodded at the battle.

"Quite the contrary." He let go of her and turned towards the doors.

"Chances are you won't come home if you leave," she whispered.

He smiled sadly at the sky, then turned to face her one last time. "I realize that."

"One thing...Whatever happened between you and Ravess?" She let a snarky grin creep across her face.

He chuckled wryly. He knew something she didn't. It infuriated her to no end. "That's for me to know and you..." He pointed at her. "...to find out." He reached behind himself and opened the doors. A blast of warm air hit his back. He watched her smile one final time, then faded into the darkness of the palace.

"You were always there to catch me when I fell. I'm sorry I couldn't be there to catch...you," she whispered. Let the wind close the doors, then turned and watched her empire crumble to pieces.

All good things came to an end.

_**fin**_

A/N: I admit, it's a bit of a dark and unfinished...finish, but I left the ending open so that you could tack on whatever outrageous event your imaginations could come up with.

And as for the flashbacks, some are from actual episodes, some I made up.

Please review, and I am taking requests, as of now, for fics. Seeing as I'm bored with what I've got going...


End file.
